Gothic 1 Dark Mysteries: The Legend of the Nameless Hero
by ShadyDeadMan
Summary: The Nameless Hero begins his adventures in the Colony. The place is a brutal prison trapped behind a magical barrier from which there is said to be no escape. Follow the hero's time in the Colony where he meets both friends and deadly enemies. Alll the time he has only two goals. To get rich and escape. Ever the criminal he cannot escape his destiny.
1. Chapter 1

This story will cover the first Gothic game and the fan made mod Dark Mysteries 1.04. The mod was a Polish mod that was later google translated into English. I don't speak Polish so I'll have to just go with what I think for the parts of the dialogue that are poorly translated. The mod is also very buggy and I have read that some quests cannot be completed but it does add a lot of interesting content and is worth the time and effort it takes to add it into the story.

The Nameless Hero will remain nameless for much of the story and will simply be known as The Prisoner. This will be the first in the series of Gothic stories if this one turns out well. I will again play through all the games and write as I finish them if there is any interest in seeing a Gothic story based on the game with a lot of ideas of my own added to make it read like a story and not just an exact copy of the game.

I will use parts of the dialogue from the game and add my own to extend and flesh out the conversations between the various characters. I would very much appreciate any reviews and opinions on how the story can be made more interesting to read. I will try to keep the story as a T rating for now but may change it to M later on. It all depends on the interest in the story and if a different rating would put people off, which I don't want to do.

Hope you enjoy reading the story, thanks.

 _ **Gothic 1 Dark Mysteries:**_

 _ **The Legend of the Nameless Hero**_

 _ **T**_ _ **he**_ _ **K**_ _ **ingdom of**_ _ **M**_ _ **yrtana united by**_ _ **K**_ _ **ing**_ _ **R**_ _ **hobar**_ _ **II**_ _ **.**_ _ **During the long years of his reign he was able to defeat all foes of his realm, all except one. The war against the orcs took its toll and the prisoners of the realm were to pay the price. The king needed swords for his army and every man guilty of a crime. No matter how insignificant. Was forced to work in the Ore Mines of Khorinis.**_

 _ **To make it impossible for them to escape the king sent out the best magicians of the kingdom to create a magic barrier around the entire valley. I was one of them. Something disturbed the delicate structure of magic and we were trapped inside our own barrier. One second of negligence was enough for the prisoners. Khorinis was now under the control of the convicts.**_

 _ **The king had no choice. He had to negotiate. He needed the ore. Month after month the king supplied everything the prisoners needed. Month after month they brought the ore to the edge of the barrier in exchange. Until the present day. Another convict was brought to the cliff. He did not know. But he would change everything.**_

 _ **This is his story during his time in the Colony.**_

 _ **ACT 1:**_

 _ **Welcome to the Colony**_

 _ **CHAPTER 1:**_

 _ **The Prisoner**_

From the safety of the clifftop the shirtless bare-chested labourers sweating profusely, worked tirelessly in the heat of the summer sun to load the large wooden lift with supplies for the Colony. Guards stood watch over the precious cargo as the workers went about their exhausting business. Official looking overseers looked on intently to make certain everything was delivered to the prisoners that they had asked for and the right amount of ore was in return recieved for those goods. Thousands of prisoners needed to be fed, supplied and clothed. This was the only method of getting those supplies to the men and women who worked the mines. And to the Ore Barons and their guards who ruled over the convicts and demanded luxuries from the king that would provide them a comfortable life within the Colony.

The massive barrier that surrounded the mines and camps of this small area of Khorinis shimmered a brilliant deadly blue as the lift laden with all manner of goods was gently lowered into the Colony. The barrier allowed living persons or animals to be sent into the Colony but nothing alive could escape the confines of the barrier as crossing it would lead to certain death.

Hundreds of crates and barrels stacked high with food, alcohol of various types such as wine, whiskey, rum, vodka and ale. Sacks of grain by the hundreds, fruit and vegetables, spices and preserved meat. Animals such as pigs, sheep, chickens and cows were destined for the Barons' feasts while the men who worked the mine would eat a more simple diet of bread and soup with the occasional piece of meat if they were lucky and the Barons' were feeling generous. The harder they worked in the mines the better they were treated. At least that was supposed to be how it worked. The reality was somewhat different. Those that could afford it were happy to pay the hunters for molerat meat, scavenger bird meat and even such creatures as meatbug and rat meat. They never got to taste the delicacies that were so abundent in the ore barons' store rooms and meat lockers.

The Barons' ordered weapons and armor to ensure they stayed in charge of the Colony and to help put down any mine worker revolts. Luxuries such as animal furs and skins, expensive decorative items and clothes of both simple and elaborate design were brought in their thousands. The lift never seemed to stop moving from the top to the bottom and back again bringing with it tons of ore. Perhaps the most curious sight on the lift was that of scantily clad female convicts bound and shackled destined for the Barons' bed chambers. They struggled and cried out for mercy as they were lowered down to face a terrible fate of virtual slavery. It was a small price to pay for the ore that kept the king's armies supplied and held back the hordes of orcs that still threatened Myrtana or that at least was the excuse given to justify such acts of cruelty.

This day a certain convict was escorted to the cliff by two armed guards. His name and his crimes would only become known much later in this story. For now he would remain nameless. And eventually be known as the Nameless Hero. He was walked to the edge of the cliff and his attention was drawn to the screams of one particularly young and terrified female prisoner as she was lowered down into the Colony. His first thoughts were that it must be true. Women were actually being sent to the Barons' as slaves. The rumours had said as much during his time among the towns and cities of Myrtana and especially during his time as a prisoner in the king's jails. His second thoughts shamed him as he imagined what it would be like to spend some time with one of those female prisoners if the oppurtunity ever arose. He seriously doubted it was likely from what rumours he had heard about the brutality and savagery of life in the Colony.

The prisoner stood between his captors who each held an arm as the magistrate prepared to read his sentence aloud. He was a tall man of just over six feet two inches. Yet his captors towered over him menacingly in their guards armor and clutching their weapons ready to use them should the prisoner try to escape. The prisoner was past his youth and not quite in the early years of middle age. The magistrate looked at the warrant and read silently to himself his age. The prisoner would be thirty two in two weeks time. He had spent the last year as a guest in his royal majesties prisons a series of petty crimes to his name. He was dressed in simple inexpensive clothes that had long since began to wear thin and smell of days old sweat and urine. He needed a warm soapy bath and a shave but that wasn't a luxury he was going to recieve while a prisoner in this place.

The prisoner studied the magistrate. He was past middle age and dressed in a yellow and brown robe with thick and large upturned collars. He wore a ridiculously tall yellow hat that showed he was a magistrate as did his robes. He read from the warrant that he held in both hands. His tone was imperious and did nothing to disguise the hatred and loathing he felt for the prisoner and undoubedly all those he had sent to a similar fate.

"In the name of King Rhobar II as the bearer of the Scepter of Veront. I sentence this convict to ..."

The prisoner was certain the man grinned as he was reading his sentence. The arrogant bastard the prisoner thought to himself. I'd like to slip a sharp blade across that scrawny neck. He grinned back menacingly and the magistrate seemed somewhat flustered as he could only imagine what was going through the convicts mind. Before the man had the chance to finish his sentence another man dressed in the dark red robes of the Fire Mages approached and held forth a large sealed letter.

"Stop. Convict, I've got an offer to make you. This letter must reach the leader of the Magicians of Fire." The magician said as he held out the letter in front of the prisoner.

"You're wasting you're time." The prisoner sneered back at him.

"You may choose your own reward. They'll give you anything you ask for." The mage expained slightly annoyed at being spoken back to in such a manner.

"Very well I'll take your letter." The prisoner replied with a wide grin as he imagined multiple scenarios in which he got to choose his hearts desire. The guards allowed his arms to fall free from their grasp but one pointed a blade at his throat which he pushed away with his hand.

"On one condition. Spare me the rest of his nonesence." The prisoner replied as he pointed in the direction of the magistrate.

"How dare y...?" The magistrate questioned and pointed an accusing finger at the grinning convict. The mage intervened with a wave of his hand and ordered the magistrate.

"Keep silent." The mage said with an authoratitive tone to the bewildered magistrate who did not appear to enjoy having his authority questioned.

"Right. Send him in." The mage pointed to the barrier but the lift was still down and so the guards with swords raised pushed the prisoner backwards so that he would fall into the deep pool of water that had settled next to the lift.

"Agghhhh..." The prisoner screamed as he fell backwards through the barrier and suddenly the air was knocked out of his lungs as he hit the water. Out of instinct or perhaps just shear luck he managed to catch and hold onto the letter for the high mage of the fire mages.

The prisoner barely managed to stay concious as he swam and struggled to the side of the pool. He kept his hand holding the letter above the water trying not to get it wet. Just as he got the top half of his body free of the water he noticed three men dressed in red guards uniforms approaching. He quickly stuffed the letter into his trouser pocket and hoped they hadn't seen it.

The largest of the men a massive brute covered in poorly inked tattoos raised a slab of a hand and clenched his fist.

"Welcome to the Colony." He smirked and spoke in a less than assuring manner.

Before the prisoner had time to react a meaty fist covered with gold sovereign rings smashed into his face. The prisoner sprayed teeth and blood all over the guard who looked like he was outraged by this affront.

A man spoke out who the prisoner had not yet noticed.

"That's enough. Leave him alone. And now scram." The man dressed in light red armor demanded with a menacing tone.

The prisoner watched as the three men walked away but not before telling him they would see him again soon and other unpleasant warnings and threats. They joined a large column of wagons that had hastily unloaded their burden of oar and reloaded them with the goods and supplies destined for the Old Camp of the ore barons'. The prisoner estimated about thirty or more guardsmen and perhaps fifty scruffily dressed convicts who were acting as labourers loading the wagons and loading the lift with ore. There were perhaps ten female convicts still bound and shackled all of whom quietly wept at their cruel fate. They occupied one of the wagons with two leering guardsmen making suggestively disgusting comments about what was going to happen to the women once they reached the camp.

The prisoner had no time for sympathy. He was in enough trouble of his own and his first thoughts were 'How the hell do I get out of here.' He studied the two broken teeth that lay in a pool of blood on the ground. That was when he promised himself that when he got the opportunity he would take his revenge on those three guardsmen and they would lose a lot more than a pool of blood and two teeth.

The man who had stopped the beating approached as the wagon train prepared to leave. The guardsmen rode in the wagons with the goods and supplies. The convicts walked slowly and miserably behind the wagons as the horses pulling them moved off leaving the lift and the pool behind them. The lift went up with its heavy burden once again. The ore provided for another month.

"Get up." The man gestured with his hand as he ordered the prisoner to stand.

"I'm Diego." The middle aged man continued.

The prisoner looked him over for a few moments. As well as the red armor he carried a longbow and a quiver of feathered arrows. He wore high, almost knee length sturdy work boots and wore a pair of leather gauntlets. He carried a longsword and looked like he knew how to use both the bow and sword. On the opposite side to the sword he carried a sheathed hunting knife. The man was slightly shorter than the prisoner, maybe six foot tall. He had black slightly receading long hair tied back in a ponytail. His skin was tanned from all the time he had spent out in the open. The prisoner could only guess as to what else his activities included in this hell hole. He was a healthy looking man with strong wiry musled arms that looked like they had seen much toil and heavy work in the forty or more years of the mans life.

"I'm ..." The prisoner began but was cut off before he had said another word.

Diego studied the scruffy looking prisoner. He stood a few inches taller than Diego and was broad shouldered and slightly muscled but not built like a brute as were Bullit and his boys. He had a thin layer of dirt and grime covering his skin from weeks without bathing. His clothes were threadbare but still wareable and would have to do for now. A good set of sturdy workers clothes and boots would cost hundreds or maybe even thousands of small ore nuggets and the prisoner didn't even know what the ore looked like yet.

His dirty brown hair was cropped short to his scalp. It was no doubt curtesy of the prison guards who would have been ordered to shave his head and beard with a bare razor to prevent lice. The clothes he wore were a pair of grey trousers with several stiched up holes in them where they had worn thin. A black armless vest that would do nothing to keep out the cold on those freezing winter nights. Diego thought to himself that it was a good thing the prisoner had arrived in the height of summer or he wouldn't last a night during the notoriously cold winter. He wore a pair of black studded leather arm bracers and a thick black leather belt kept his trousers up.

He was a plain looking but slightly handsome man who would find himself the bearer of much unwanted attention from those convicts that didn't mind some company from other men. Some were more forceful than others and some would not take no for an answer. He would either have to learn to toughen up and fight his own battles or pay extortionate rates of ore to the Old Camp guardsmen for protection.

He would have little trouble from the guards in this manner as most if not all of them had female prisoners as servants or slaves from the outside world. Only those men who swore loyalty to Gomez and became either Shadows, Guardsmen or Ore Barons' were given women as payment. They wouldn't last long in the cutthroat camp if left to fend for themselves where everyone longed for the life they had left behind them outside the Colony. Many would have had families but none had seen those families in all the time they had been prisoner here.

"I'm not interested in who you are. You've just arrived. I look after the new arrivals. That's all for now. If you plan to stay alive for awhile, you should talk to me. But of course I won't keep you from choosing you're own destruction. Well, what do you think?" Diego explained to the concerned looking prisoner who seemed to go pale at the mention of him staying alive.

"Okay, what do I need to know about this place?" The prisoner asked eager to learn all he could from this seemingly helpful man.

"We call it the Colony. You'll know already that we produce ore for the king. Well at least we do. In the Old Camp. There are three main camps within the barrier and other smaller camps that you will discover later if you live long enough. The Old Camp is the biggest and it was the first. Over a thousand convicts make their home in the Old Camp and the camp next to the mine from where we get the ore. There's almost the same number in the New Camp and certainly at the very least half that many in the Swamp Camp with all the Sect loonies. There are perhaps another couple of thousand more who choose to live outside any Camp in the wilds or perhaps have joined one of the smaller Camps for protection from the beasts and other convicts.

The wilds will kill the unwary inexperienced man who ventures into them. The wilds are considered to be any area of unsettled land. These areas are the hunting grounds for wild beasts as I have already said but also tribes of evil goblins and especially the orcs. The whole Colony is perhaps no more than five to ten miles from the edge of the barrier at one end to the edge of the barrier at the other end. But its surprising how many people and beasts can fit into such a small area. There are also other things that shouldn't really be mentioned. But this once I will tell you this place is haunted by the living dead, by demons and creatures not of this world. That is all I will say. Just stay away from the dungeons and ruins of the Colony if you want to stay alive. Don't listen to those who say there is great riches to be had there. There undoubedly is but what you will face is too terrifying to mention. Just do your work in one of the camps and hope that one day the barrier is removed.

"How do I get to the Old Camp?" The prisoner questioned with an increasing sense of awe at this wonderous place, how could a prison colony sound so interesting. He listened intently to the much exaggerated descriptions of the Colony and its unlikely denizens. He decided if there was any treasures to find, he would be the one to do the finding and this Diego character was likely after it all for himself. There was no doubt in his mind that all these magnificent beasts didn't really exist except in the wild imaginations of scared convicts with nothing better to do than think up stories to scare each other.

"You just follow this path down into the valley. The Old Camp is the next reasonably safe place you'll come across. There are a lot of wild beasts between the camps. You'd be mad to walk around without a weapon." Diego replied noticing the mischievous grin that had appeared on the prisoners face. They would never learn. Diego sometimes wondered why he bothered with the warnings when all that he was met with the glassy-eyed and distant stare of the person he was talking to as they imagined untold riches and other things they were likely to find in such a place.

"Where do I get a weapon?" He asked eagerly and more than a little hopefully.

"When you get to the Old Mine have a look around. I'm sure you'll find something useful." Diego said with a shrug. The convict diggers were not allowed to be armed by the Shadows or the Guardsmen as revolts were never far from their mind when they felt they had the means to actually revolt against the Ore Barons'.

"The mine is easy to find, it's just a few miles along the canyon. " Diego explained pointing in the general direction of the mine.

"Why did you help me?" The prisoner querried Diego. He had to wonder what all this help was going to cost him.

"Because you needed help. Otherwise Bullit and his boys might have killed you. And I couldn't just stand there and watch. 'Cos I came all this way to make a suggestion." Diego seemed to read his mind and sought to ease his growing fears.

"A suggestion?" he asked.

"Yes. After this little incident with Bullit and his guys. You should be aware now that you need protection. Everyone who arrives here has a choice. There are three camps in the Colony and you'll have to join one of them. I'm here to show the new ones that the Old Camp is the best place for them." Diego spoke seemingly proudly of what they had created in the Colony. But he was perhaps a little too close to those who ran the place to be honestly objective and realise just how bad the diggers life's had become.

"Where's Bullit now?" The prisoner seemed to notice Diego's obvious pride and wondered what awaited him when he reached this camp. Bullit didn't look like the kind of man to let something go so easily.

"He and the others bring the goods from the outside world into the camp. You'll find him there. But if you're planning to fight him be careful. He's an experienced warrior." Diego warned with a look of genuine concern.

"I have a letter for the High Magician of the Circle of Fire." The prisoner said without thinking what he was saying and immediately regretted it but it was too late now.

"Really?" Diego's eyes lit up with the mention of the fire mages.

"I was given it by a mage shortly before they threw me in here." he said guardedly noticing that look of envy in the mans eyes.

"You're lucky I can't afford to show my face around the mages anymore. Anyone else would gladly slit your throat for that letter. That's because the mage's pay their couriers a lot and most people here don't have anything. If I were you I'd shut up until you met one of the mages. Although in your situation that's not likely to happen." Diego explained to the prisoner with a slight look of annoyance. The prisoner could only imagine what he would do if he could take the letter for himself.

"Why not?" The prisoner asked.

"The mages are in the castle in the Old Camp. Only Gomez's people are allowed to enter the castle."

"Who's Gomez?"

"Gomez is the most powerful ore baron. He's the boss of the Old Camp. The most powerful man in the Colony." Diego seemed to regard the man he spoke of with a certain sense of awe or so it seemed. Perhaps he was simply good at not dispalying his true feelings but the prisoner also sensed something else, fear. If a man like this was in fear of his life then this Gomez must truly be an evil man indeed.

"Let's assume I want to join his people. What do I need to do?" He asked with uncertainty. Not sure that he really wanted to join such an oppressive bunch of criminals.

"At the gate of the castle you'll find a man called Thorus. Tell him Diego sent you."

"Thanks for you're help." The prisoner seemed genuinely pleased with all the information and warnings Diego had given him but couldn't disguise his uncertainty and the veteran Shadow couldn't help but wonder how long the man would really last if he decided to go it alone. He looked like a petty pockpocket or burglar. Such a profession had its place in the Colony for the right people as all the Shadows would attest to. But if he chose his own path then things were not going to go well for him of that he had no doubt.

"We'll meet in the Old Camp." Diego replied and reached behind him where a large leather sack bound at the top was sat on the floor.

"I almost forgot. Gomez is feeling generous at the moment and all new prisoners to the Colony are given a welcome sack full of much needed items. It won't last long so make your mind up quickly about which camp you'll choose to join." The prisoner took the sack a little too eagerly for his own liking. He seemed to be showing he could be bought for as little as a sack of food. At least that was how he imagined it.

"Thanks again for your help, Diego." He said sincerely.

"Don't mention it. Don't take too long to reach the Old Camp. The nights are dangerous around here with all manner of wild beasts wandering about the area. See you soon." Diego said as he wandered after the wagon train back to the Old Camp several miles away.

The prisoner eagerly and impatiently untied the sack and peered inside at the bounty he had just recieved. There were two large jugs of moonshine, ten apples, two bunches of grapes, five loaves of freshly made bread, ten large chunks of grilled meat, three smaller chunks of ham, five pieces of cheese, five bottles of cheap wine, a personal leather bound journal and diary, one torch, a tinder box, a thin woolen blanket, a writing quill and a single small sealed bottle of black ink, a single roll of bandages, three healing herbs and a small sheathed pocket knife, and a single tiny piece of blue ore, as well as one hundred copper piece coins. He placed the sealed letter for the fire mages inside the sack and tied it back up.

He looked around at his surroundings eager to get started on his supposedly short journey. A couple of miles didn't sound too bad. Although the beasts worried him, both human and animal. The hanging skeletal remains of a former prisoner did nothing to ease his worries. He focused on the hangman's noose and wondered if he would share the same fate or perhaps something more terrible than he could imagine. He was letting his fears build until he forced himself to calm down and put such unpleasantries out of his mind.

He approached the hangman's post where a welcome message greeted him. Welcome to the Colony. He was reminded of Bullit's very words and shuddered. He read the message and then noticed the guardsmens knife that held it in place.

'Would anyone miss it?' He thought to himself. It would solve an immediate problem but could bring a lot more if he was caught. He decided against it and left the knife stuck deeply in the wood. He thought perhaps it was a test to see if he stole it and the thought made his nerves fray just a little more than they had before.

He looked over as the lift came down again this time unladen but ready to take more ore to the outside world. It steadily came down the wooden ramp mechanism attached to the cliffside and settled at the bottom. Ten guardsmen in full plate armor stood around the wooden enclosed area where the ore was stored. None of them looked particularly pleasant fellows who would engage freely in idle conversation. They would more than likely run him through with their swords. They seemed particularly on edge or perhaps didn't like having to move the ore on to the lift themselves now the convict labourers were gone. One of them approached him.

"Where are you going, Lukis?" One of the other guards shouted from the enclosure.

"Just seeing what this idiot is doing." He replied angrily.

"What are you looking for here, you tramp?" The guard haughtily questioned with an overgrown sense of inflated arrogance.

"It's none of your business." The prisoner hastily replied and then thought better of it.

"Oh really? Gomez ordered us to keep an eye on the exchange place in order to protect it from assholes like you." He sneered back as his temper rose at this pathetic little bastard.

"Asshole? What did I do wrong?" he asked quietly.

"Haven't you had enough from Bullit? Do you want to have another black eye?" Lukis questioned menacingly.

"It was my teeth he knocked out, not my eye." He said as he opened his mouth to show the two missing teeth.

"Then perhaps I'll have to give you two black eyes to go with the bloody mouth that you seem to be shooting off. Don't you know when to quit, boy?"

"Do you know Bullit?" The prisoner questioned as he quickly changed the subject and hoped he wasn't going to get another beating.

"He's my friend. We greet newcomers together very often. You're lucky Diego saved you." Lukis replied.

"Who are you?" He asked meekly.

"I'm someone who doesn't have time to talk with a moron like you. Get lost and be grateful that you have a chance to go without any serious injuries."

"I'm not a moron." The prisoner protested.

"Is that so? You stink like city dungeons. To me you are nothing more than a moron and asshole and I'll prove that." Lukis raged as he ran forward raising his blade from it's scabbard.

The prisoner tried to backstep and then run but was brought down by a heavy mailed fist to the back of the head.

"Try that again and you'll regret it." Lukis spat down at him issuing a warning as he got his senses back and thought better of killing a newcomer witnessed by all on the clifftop a hundred feet up from where he stood. The prisoner groaned in agony as his vision blared and he thought he saw three men stood over him. Had Bullit come back.

"Shit. He hasn't even got any ore on him." Lukis continued and walked away with a wide grin and to the cheers of the other guardsmen who had formed a small crowd just outside of the exchange enclosure. That would buy him a few drinks in the bar tonight as he told the story of how he smashed the newcomer in the head. It would be something he could jest about with his best friend Bullit.

The prisoner stood back up on shaky legs and wandered over to his sack which he was grateful hadn't been taken yet. Perhaps the guards didn't need to rob him of his food and they were only after more ore for themselves. He took one look back at the clifftop and the large crowd who had witnessed his beating and made a hasty retreat. He would remember to write all these bastards names in his journal once he was settled. And when the time was right he would have his revenge.

The prisoner took his first steps along the road that had recently been travelled by the wagon train and then by Diego. It was a dirt path cut through the hillside that rose up steeply on both sides. The tops of the hills were heavily forested and gave it a wild and primitive look. He could only imagine at the beasts that hid away in those woods waiting for foolish and unwary travellers.

His pace picked up as he followed the twisting road through the hills. Several hundred metres around a bend he came to a stop in front of a large wooden gate. Two guardsmen in red armor stood atop the gate and watched as he approached. Without question they began to use the lever to raise the gate and let him through. Getting back wouldn't be so easy he thought. He looked at the wooden ladder leading to the top of the gate and decided to try his look. Surely not every one of these damn guards was a complete evil sadistic bastard. He climbed to the top and approached one of the guardsmen. He was a hook nosed weasily looking fellow. A scrawny man compared to the other guards he had seen but he imagined there must be something about him or he wouldn't have been made a guard.

"Hello I've just arrived and wondered if you could offer any help. What do you do here?" The prisoner questioned hopefully but was wary now.

"We are making sure no one gets near the exchange place. Especially one of those cutthroats from the New Camp." Otty the guardsman explained.

"You're the new guy they chucked in today right?" Otty continued.

"That's me." He replied.

"Then you had better watch out for the guys from the New Camp." Otty warned.

"I work for the Old Camp. Same as the others you saw at the exchange place. I assume you have talked to Diego?"

"Yes I have." The prisoner replied wanting to keep things simple and not antagonise another guard with his big mouth.

"Good. Then you know what's what around here."

"Yes. But why do I have to watch out for the guys from the New Camp?" he asked. He had to admit to being curious about what the other camps might be like.

"Compared to the New Camp the Old Camp is a quiet peaceful sort of place. The New Camp doesn't get any deliveries from the outside world. Most of the rogues there just steal whatever they need."

The prisoner just stared for a moment and had to think this was some kind of joke. If these bastards were the good guys then this place really was the cesspit from hell that he had heard about.

"And the Old Camp?" He asked.

"The Ore Baron's have everything under control. Next in line to them are the Guards followed by the Shadows. The Diggers are the lowest. Everyone who arrives here starts out as a Digger. If you want to become something better than that. You'll have to get accepted as a Shadow first." Otty explained proudly.

"When I was thrown into the pool beside the exchange place. I swam to the bank and was climbing out of the pool when one of the guys punched me in the face."

"They do that to all the newcomers. They call it Standing Godfather."

"Oh. Are all the guys like that in the Old Camp?"

"We do have a few real bastards. But they won't touch you as long as you pay them protection money."

So he was going to have to pay this scum protection money to keep them off his back or else his life was going to be made a living hell. Already he was wondering if he should try and make his way to one of the other camps.

"I saw women being sent down with the goods. They were bound and shackled like slaves."

"Yeah. The Ore Barons get everything they want. And that trickles down to the guards and then the Shadows. The Diggers have to make do with what's left."

"Do you mean to say the king exchanges women for ore?" He mentioned but he thought he already knew the answer he would get if the rumours were true.

"They're convicted criminals too of course. But if Gomez hadn't asked for them they'd be sitting in some dungeon or other. I'm not sure what's worse."

"I'm looking for a weapon." He thought it wouldn't do any harm to ask.

"There should be some old weapons by the derelict mine further down the canyon. But don't go and start a war with nothing but a rusty pickaxe for a weapon. Those things are slow and heavy. An inexperienced fighter should never use one of them unless it's an emergency. You had better make sure you reach the Old Camp in one piece."

"Thanks for the information. I appreciate someone talking to me without getting punched in the face." The prisoner finished and climbed back down the ladder before the guard could answer.

He went through the gate and watched as it closed behind him. Now he really was on his own and it seemed sort of final even though his adventures were just beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

_**I want to give this another try. Thanks to playing the new game 'Outward' for over a hundred hours. Iv'e suddenly got an urge to play through a lot of the old rpg's again. Mainly the Gothic, Risen and Elex series of games. I have just found Gothic 1 Dark Mysteries 2.02 with an updated English translation and thought maybe I would try this again hopefully with the majority of bugs gone that were present in the 1.04 release. I'll start a new game and write as I play as my old save games are long since deleated after reaching a point in the game where it would have been pointless to continue due to all the bugs and unfinishable quests. Hopefully it will get some interest as its still being read by people after no new chapters for 2 years.**_

 _ **Chapter 2:**_

 _ **The Long Road to Hell**_

This wasn't a good start to his journey. Lying on the ground right outside the gate were too gnawed skeletons. The guards hadn't even bothered to bury them. He wondered how long they had rotted in the summer heat before scavengers had picked the bones clean. The bodies didn't distract him long before he noticed the wild strawberry bush close by and immediatey began picking them for something to eat before he settled down to his dinner. Then he noticed what the prison inmates back in Myrtana would call the 'meatbugs' slowly eating away at the fruit. He picked up a fallen branch and gave them a hard whack. They crunched under his blow and left blood smears on the ground. He cleared away the blood and packed them with the wild strawberries into his sack and began moving along the road once again.

Fifty metres on from the first two bodies he found another gnawed skeleton. There was nothing left beside it which meant it had either been dragged off by predators or someone had robbed the dead bodies. If he was going to survive in this place he had to wise up and get tough. He had no intention of ending up as some primative, sex crazed brute's plaything and he had already had enough of being beaten up. He needed someone like Diego looking out for him until he was tough enough to take on these bastards. Another hundred metres and he came to what looked as though it might be the abandoned mine. Stood in the road was a man dressed in diggers clothes and he looked very upset.

"They took her. She was taken." He shouted at the top of his voice. The man looked menacingly at the newcomer.

"Who was taken away?" The prisoner questioned curiously.

"Those sons of bitches. Those damn bandits. They've taken her, arrggghhh ..." He continued with tears streaming down his cheeks.

"You. You look like them. Die you son of a bitch." The crazed man screamed at the prisoner.

The prisoner was too slow to react and took a blow to the side of his head as the club wielding maniac smashed him to the ground. He raised the club to finish the prisoner off but something stopped him. Perhaps it was the terrified look in the prisoner's eyes that changed his mind but he lowered the club.

The prisoner stood up and brushed himself down. The gash on the side of his head would go well with the cuts and bruises he already had. He cautiously approached the man who seemed too taken with grief to talk.

"Are you alright?" The prisoner asked without thinking.

"You looking for trouble with me again." The digger asked raising his club once more.

"Why did you attack me?" The prisoner questioned angrily.

"Leave me alone. Go away and don't come back." The man replied and wandered further onwards towards the exchange area and then sat at the side of the road weeping tears of sorrow.

The prisoner didn't have time for this crap and thought about adding the bastard to his growing list of enemies but couldn't quite bring himself to hate the man as he seemed so completely lost and alone. Was this the kind of thing that awaited him if he stayed in this place long man lost all interest in the prisoner and simply sat beside the road looking blank and caught up in his own thoughts.

The area outside the abandoned mine had various wooden coverings that had collapsed and would do little to hide anyone sheltering there from the cold and wet. The prisoner looked around the area for things of use. Discarded empty barrels once containing ale lay scattered on the side of the road next to the hillside. Another wild strawberry bush provided yet more food for his growing sack of goods. He picked up an arrow and a straight sided drinking glass which would be fine when cleaned out.

The prisoner noticed the discarded chest at the side of the road under one of the wooden shelters. He bent over and tried the lock. It was unlocked. It made him wonder if it belonged to the digger. Curiosity got the better of him and he slowly opened the lid prepared for any traps that might have been in place. He peeked inside and found a lockpick which would be very useful, a torch which he would need if he spent too long outside the camp. Four arrows, eleven copper coins and two full bottles of beer. He placed them all in his sack and carried on searching the area. A skeleton seemed to be grinning up at him from where it lay on the floor. Yet another victim of this damn place.

Another hangman's post and another hung skeleton. A torn illegible piece of paper was held in place on the post by another guard's knife. This time the prisoner wasted no time in struggling to pull the knife from the wood. He pulled hard and stumbled backwards as the knife came free. He tucked it into his belt and immedaitely felt better about his next encounter with the convicts. He even thought about sneaking up behind the crying man and cutting his throat but who knew what kinds of trouble that might bring him. Steadily burning embers gave off a small light from the fading fire beside the road. The man seemed to have no interest in keeping it going.

The prisoner walked slowly towards the mine entrance and imediately noticed the barred portcullis blocked the way. He looked around and found an old miner's pickaxe. His immediate thought was to bury it in the bastard's skull but he remembered what the guard had told him about slow heavy weapons. And if he messed up he doubted the digger would spare him a second time. He spent the next half an hour picking yet more wild strawberries until he decided he had probably got enough for one day.

It was then that the prisoner noticed a small gleaming object behind one of the broken ale barrels. At first he thought it was just a silver coin. Bending over to inspect it however revealed an intricately designed silver ring adorned with a tiny red gem. The prisoner quickly placed the item in his pocket and wandered away from the area after giving the place a few more careful glances to see if anything else was to be found. His immediate thoughts were 'how much will it be worth in the camps'.

He noticed the fenced off path that led steadily up the hill and onto a rough cliffside. A rickety old wooden bridge led across to the other side of the road and the opposite facing hill. He ignored the bridge for now and without much thought began to climb the cliff. He tossed his sack over his shoulder and tied it in place. As he climbed there were small ledges where the ground evened out. The climb was long and laborious but he managed to reach the top of the cliff without too many scratches and scrapes. Another path leading over the top of the mine entrance was protected by wooden fencing. He noticed another chest on the ground and wondered why people left such things simply strewn about the place without any worry of some thief like him coming along and stealing their belongings. He opened the lid and immediately felt a sense of disappointment at the sight of four arrows for the bow he didn't have. Seven copper piece coins that he was guessing wouldn't be worth anything if ore was the local bartering currency. And a full bottle of beer. It was more than a little underwhelming.

Further back along the ledge was another mine entrance. He walked over and studied the fallen rocks. No one would be going into this mine until it had been cleared of rocks which would take many weeks if his guess was right. He picked up another old pickaxe and a torch. He put the torch in his sack and looked over the two pickaxes choosing the one in the best condition and discarding the other. Another skeleton lay under the fallen rocks with just its arms and legs sticking out crushed and broken. If this was going to be a regular sight in the Colony it was a wonder there was anybody left alive.

Another cliff side stood back from the ledge which he began to climb having stashed everything in his sack that he could. The food wouldn't spoil next to the rusty old pickaxe as it was all wrapped in thick clean cloths. Obviously prepared by one of the Ore Barons' slaves as convicts just didn't do this kind of thing. At least not in his experience. He stopped to pick some Seraphis herbs as he climbed and stuffed them in his pocket not knowing quite what they could be used for.

He reached the top of the cliff and looked out over a large wooded hilly area. His attention was immediatley drawn to the five foot tall young scavenger bird that was heading straight for him. There wasn't enough time to flee back down the cliffside. He stood ready to be clawed and pecked to death and then remembered the guards knife in his belt. He quickly pulled the blade out and weighed it in his hand. It felt good and reminded him of a life he had long since left behind. The bird was almost on him now and he fell into a defensive stance that he had learned long ago and only now seemed to come back to him. The bird's claws flew past his face and drew blood from his right ear. He dodged to the side and brought the blade up not as quickly as he once would have but enough to catch this lumbering beast off guard. The blade was used to stab the bird in the throat several times over severing the scavengers head from its body.

The scavenger stood upright blood pouring from its wound and staggered around for about a minute before finally dying from blood loss.

"Got ya, yer bloody old bastard." The prisoner shouted excitedly.

"He saw no sense in wasting the meat and proceeded to make a bloody mess of carving up the animal into carryable junks of meat. With about twenty pounds of meat in his sack he carried on forward, exhilerated by what had just happened. It was beginning to slowly come back to him that life that he had given up for someone close. He had sworn never to go back to his former profession but he had tasted defeat enough for one day and a small victory no matter how insignificant felt awfully good and this was how he intended to carry on.

Five minutes further into the forest he noticed the high cliffs stood back from the woods and knew without doubt he could go no further up. They were too high and too steep with almost no visible ledges to rest during the ascent. He noticed the four eyes staring at him from the forest and looked down at two pig like creatures with sharp teeth. Molerats he believed they were called, although these two looked like the runts of the litter as they were smaller than what he remembered. They must have been juveniles hence their hesitation to attack. He drew the knife once more and waited as they edged closer. Fearing an ambush he looked around for more beasts but the three of them were alone in the small clearing in the middle of the forest. They rushed at him on all four legs their screeching grunts making them sound like pigs with their throat being cut. He quickly dodged aside and brought the full force of the blade down through one of the beast's skull. The noise it made as it died was bonechilling and would stay with the prisoner for some considerable time.

But now was not the time for regrets or thoughts of animal welfare. The remaining one would chew his leg off if he let his guard down. He waited for the beast to make another charge and as it missed him he fell on top of it pulling back its head and quickly slitting its throat. He looked at the bloody mess of his clothes and thought it could be worse it could be human blood. But how would those folks know whose or what kind of blood it was it all looked the same. He would have to find a pool or a river and wash off the mess that now covered him from head to toe. Some of the salty tasting blood got in his mouth and he quickly and squeemishly spat it out. He began carelessly cutting junks out of the creatures. When he had enough to completely fill his sack he placed the meat inside and moved on.

The prisoner walked over to the bottom of the cliff noticing something glinting in the sun. Again he was disappointed it was simply another tall drinking glass and a single tiny piece of blue ore that he believed was the source of income for what the prisoners and King's servants used for currency. He put them both in his bulging sack and took the pickaxe out to make room for anything of use he might find. He weighed the pickaxe in both hands but it would be useless against all but the most stationary target. They were simply not designed to be used in battle. He decided to carry it. It would be useful for mining and it saved him buying one if that was how things worked in this place.

The bottom of the cliff was simply a mass of large fallen rocks and other debris that had come from the cliffside. He searched the area but found nothing else. In the distance through the small wooded area he could see an old wooden shack and two people going about their business. On the hill a few hundred metres from the shack he saw a vile little creature that he was certain was a goblin looking towards the shack and the people seemed oblivious of the creature. Time to do his good deed for the day and hopefully be rewarded. He crouched down and moved forward putting the trees in front of him and the goblin. Maybe he could sneak up on the creature. He would soon find out.


End file.
